


Bring the matches to my eyes, darling

by fvartoxin



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Hawktalon voice: if you call yourself "Daddy" one more time I am leaving permanently, Other, These two have always had a very bizarre relationship and this one piece isn't the half of it, This is very old and I should have uploaded it before that one DawnClan piece, You'll have to dig through my d.A. to see more though, if you're averse to human swearing then avoid all my Warriors work, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvartoxin/pseuds/fvartoxin
Summary: Behold, a glimpse at the lives of an OTP that nobody but myself, and maybe my ex, actually cares about. They have an interesting dynamic, and I think to some extent it shows here.Takes place before for dawning light, as well as some other pieces that I may or may not end up putting here eventually. Let's be real, most of my content will die with d.A.
Relationships: Dunalon, OC/OC





	Bring the matches to my eyes, darling

Even the Clan's official elders didn't spend so much of their time asleep. Hawktalon could understand simple fatigue; they themselves were often drained by daily tasks now. (Age had slowed them down, but not stopped them. They refused to let it stop them.) Anyways, the fact of the matter was that Duncan was worrying them greatly. Sure, he had been injured recently. That at least somewhat explained it. A ligament sprain was no laughing matter, especially when dealing with a cat of Duncan's advanced age. But as the weeks ticked on and they were met with nothing but total silence, they had grown more and more concerned. This wasn't entirely a recent thing, either. He'd been a lot quieter than usual the past few months. Originally Hawktalon had chalked it up to simple guilt; even Duncan expressed emotions oddly sometimes, and it was understandable that he didn't want to bring up a recent sexual conquest to his mate. A mate that was already quite bitter about certain aspects of themselves, to boot. So it was that Hawktalon very grudgingly tolerated that old habits died hard, even if deep down, it stoked the flames of old paranoia. But Duncan did not break his promises, and there was a certain level of trust imparted in the two's 13+ year relationship.

Hawktalon stood and paced aimlessly around the medicine den, if only to give themselves something to do. It was more tempting to not move when it was this cold outside, but the small cat knew that staying still made it all too easy to freeze. Better to keep your circulation optimal than to die, or at the very least lose a few toes to the weather. The repetitive motion grew dull, yes, but all the same they weren't willing to leave the tortoiseshell's side. Who knew when Duncan might wake up?

Turns out that it only took a few more hours of walking, and a brief bathroom break. During which, Duncan had slowly limped from the medicine den with intent on doing the same; Hawktalon didn't see him appear at any point, but it was easy enough to tell with the few disgruntled murmurs coming from the cluster of warriors outside. Either way, when they returned he was there, curled gingerly on his side in the pair's shared nest (they had determined him to be well enough to move around again a few days back during one of his rare waking moments, but they still didn't want him to do anything rash) and staring at them through half-lidded eyes. "So. I miss anything while I was out?" There was a mixture of curiosity and weariness in Duncan's pale eyes.

"Several things, actually." Hawktalon paused for a long while. "Our daughter- Prozan. Prozan is deputy now," they stated flatly, mangled tail twitching in irritation. "I've spent the last few days going over logistics with her. She's not all that pleased about Featherstar's decision, and frankly, neither am I. Who **would** be, is the question?" Hawktalon began to pace again, azure eyes narrowed to slits. "Rockstar made demands of the Clans. He is...I would not say 'suggesting'. It was a thinly-veiled demand to get the other Clan leaders to surrender any kittens they had in their nurseries over to DawnClan. They are in desperate need of new blood; it seems that more of their own are sterile than I had previously thought. The idea is utterly ridiculous, what nursing cat would be willing to give their children away? He's a fool if he thinks that this plan has a remote basis in anything logical."

Duncan was silent for a long time, trying to process what his mate had just said. And then, the outburst came; calmer than they had expected. "I'm sorry, but what the actual **fuck**?" The elderly tortoiseshell was bristling with rage, though his tone remained within respectable bounds. "I believe you with the deputy thing, but. The hell?" He attempted to rise to his feet and presumably seek out RapidClan's leader only to stumble, his bad hind leg collapsing underneath him. The tomcat let out a string of curses as he fell. "...Do Clan leaders just not ask around about good choices for future leaders anymore, or what? If she claimed any longer that she considered other people's feelings, I'd eat my own leg," he snarled, trailing off into disgruntled muttering. There were a few creative threats thrown into the mix.

Hawktalon was flush against his side in an instant, carefully inspecting both the ruined limb and attached haunch for damage. Not that much else could be done on the physical level aside from cutting or ripping the entire thing off; the musculature was partially shredded to pieces and the amount of salvageable bone hadn't healed properly at all. But Duncan could at least put weight on the leg, although not for long. "Turn over. Stomach. This would be a good time to see how your other back leg is doing." Sometimes, it felt as though they were a cold facsimile of a doctor first and a living, breathing cat second (though that wasn't the case if you bothered to get to know them well). "And, that summed up my own feelings on the matter nicely. I can't say that I didn't raise her that way, nor can I say that I **did** raise her that way. Still, I'm not sure what she was thinking in that moment. She is my flesh and blood, and she shares my flaws, but even for Featherstar this is unusual behavior. She has lived by the warrior code." Hawktalon sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as their ears flattened. "I had always thought that she would not appoint an unfit cat, and I will admit that Ravenspots made a good deputy. But he did not actively want to lead and was never planning to in the first place, and though Prozan once led a Clan, it was not by choice. Cats elected her. I do not believe that she is ready for so much stress, at least not so soon."

He obeyed without hesitation, rolling over onto his back. "Aww, you get all bored without me? Could smell you in the first place, but I just felt like I should point that out now." Duncan's amorous chuckle died in his throat at Hawktalon's next words. His right side throbbed, and he paused briefly to swallow down the pain before speaking again. "Featherstar ain't young anymore, that's for sure. None of us are, not even Prozan," he mused, shuddering and leaning into his mate's warm touch as Hawktalon's broad forepaw lightly traced the scar coiled around his genitalia. If anything, the old injury just increased his sensitivity in cold weather. It was certainly doing so now, at least. The tomcat coughed lightly as they moved on to his more well-off leg. He was well aware they weren't doing this deliberately, but still. He'd need a moment. "Mmm. Knowing that kid, she'll just internalize everything. In that respect, she got the worst parts of us both," and he sighed as well, flicking his tail against the remains of his mate's flattened muzzle in a vague attempt at comfort. "Can't say that ain't surprising." Duncan lay his head back on the moss, and scowled up at the ceiling of the cave.

"You were asleep for a solid four days," the moggy deadpanned, pausing with the express purpose of fixing Duncan with a stony glare. "I cannot fathom how your internal organs didn't shut down at any point." With that having been put out there, Hawktalon continued with their task. "No, neither can I. She is a grown adult, yes, but it is evident she's under a lot of stress right now. I will have to talk to Featherstar; I don't suggest that you do so. This cannot be reversed now, but perhaps I can do some convincing of a sort. Even if very few around here listen anymore. But, no one deserves to be left to puzzle out **everything** on their own, however deplorable they may or may not be in any case."

Duncan grunted with effort as he shifted positions, rasping his long tongue over the top of Hawktalon's head. He was now half sitting, half lying down, and would have been looming over them quite intimidatingly had he been standing at his full height. "You know I ain't going to be okay sitting this one out, Princess," he murmured, and settled down to groom them more thoroughly. It was as much of a simple comfort as it was an invitation, despite Hawktalon's general dislike for tongue baths. "But, if you need me to back you up..." An almost feral grin flashed across his maw for the briefest of moments. "Well. Dad-I'm here. I am here."

"Believe me, I am well aware. But I would prefer to not see needless bloodshed for the remainder of my life." Hawktalon closed their eyes, having stopped attending to Duncan's leg and instead focusing on his touch. "And I do wish you'd stop calling yourself that. It's unflattering. I appreciate the effort, though." Perhaps that had been too harsh, they thought, even though they knew deep down that Duncan wouldn't actually care about the comment. The tortoiseshell often brushed things off and pretended like he wasn't affected, that was true enough, but this wasn't the type of remark that was likely to hurt him in the first place. Taking a deep breath, they continued speaking. "You should eat something, as long as you're awake. I would rather you not relapse back into all of your old habits, even **if** all the vegetation outside is currently dead and the territory looks like a wasteland." Okay, **that** had definitely been a little harsh, judging by the way Duncan's body had tensed against theirs from far more than just simple sexual arousal. They winced internally, opening their eyes again and briefly locking gazes with their mate.

Duncan dipped his head in acknowledgement, choosing not to mention his daughter-in-law further. Then, predictably, he shrugged, drawing himself up to a full sit. "Princess. Don't," he stated bluntly, and returned their stare with equal intensity. His ears were somewhat turned back, but he forced them forwards again. "We both know I ain't redeemable in the least," this was punctuated with a ragged chuckle. "You especially, you old martyr." Of course, they both had their fair share of vices. He got up finally, bracing himself against the cave's wall as he went. "I'll be back. You want something?"

"Few people that I've known in this life have been genuinely irredeemable, Duncan. Even after years, you're not included in my personal hit list by any means. And, if there is anything big enough to share, may as well not waste it," they answered, and sat down to wait patiently, their gaze lingering on his damaged hindquarters as he went.

He returned in little time at all, dragging the body of a young rabbit along with him; quite an unusual piece of prey for RapidClan. But it at least had meat on its bones. Duncan dropped the kill near the two's nest without a word, too busy spitting fur from his mouth to speak. Once he had recovered, he simply angled his ears towards the meal and laid down again.

They joined him without complaint, curling into his side for warmth and beginning to eat.

"Hey. Mind running that Rockstar thing by me again?" Duncan ended his sentence with a massive yawn. "Was too preoccupied with being pissed off over our kid to pay much attention to the latter half of what you said. Sorry. Still pissed, though."

Hawktalon swallowed their mouthful, then spoke. "At the Gathering a few days back, he demanded that the rest of the Clans give up whatever kits they had in the nursery to further DawnClan's survival. Preferably newborns, they 'could be shaped easier', were less likely to disobey his orders as they got older. Needless to say, there was outrage. It's not as if anyone would willingly give birth in the colder seasons to begin with, and even fewer cats would be willing to give up entire litters to a Clan that they barely know. I can't imagine that CrestClan queen would be very happy if her children were stolen from her; no other Clan cat has kittens of any kind. And even then, hers are past apprenticing age from the rumors I've heard."

Duncan let out a snort of amusement. "None of the other cats around here have kids as far as I know, either. What, is he going to force us to copulate, then monitor our every move?" The moggy shivered, from something other than cold this time. (Not that the weather tended to affect him much, anyway) Instinctively, his claws slid from their sheaths. He hesitantly retracted them once he noticed. "Frankly, I've had more than enough of that first part in my lifetime so far."

Hawktalon gently bumped his shoulder with their nose. "I know," they said softly. "Even Rockstar is not that foolish...or, if he is, then surely the backlash from everyone will stop that in its tracks." They bent their head, and continued to eat.

"...Hopefully," he muttered, icy eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. He too decided to quiet down and eat; there was always time to talk more later on.


End file.
